A Dragon's Consort
by QueenNothingness
Summary: 'Seven Gods have mercy on anyone who dares to touch you, because he will burn the world if he has to, to keep you safe.' Melantha is Drogon's consort, and while she would have lived quietly with him in Old Valyria, war is coming. Enemies stir. She will show them what being a dragon's consort means, in all the senses of the word. And if the world needs to burn, so be it.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

The wind is howling over the field, the banners and cloaks of the soldiers behind her almost getting ripped to shreds. The sound of the trees groaning in the storm is all she can hear for a moment.

Melantha tilts her head back, closing her eyes as the watery sun dances behind her closed eyelids. And for a second she wishes they were back in Old Valyria, before everything became complicated. Just her and Drogon. Nothing else.

She raises her arms with her palms open, praying to whatever god that is still out there to help her. Some hairs of her long dark mane, braided in a crown on her head, much like Drogon's mother used to have, and the long braid that falls down her back, brush against her cheeks, though they are kept in place by the crown and earrings she wears.

The crown is a monstrosity, made of black steel and black and red gems, angry spikes going towards the sun, as if reaching for the wane light it provides. It is not a pretty crown, not made for a gentle queen. It is just another reminder to her enemies that Melantha is a _dragon's _consort.

Her long black and red earrings bounce against her neck, as she looks before her, eyes open and zeroing in on Sansa and her retenue that approach. She looks down at her dress, trying to calm her thundering heart, once more bitter and angry at the battle that will be thrust upon her. A war she _does not want._

Sansa's eyebrows raise when she sees what the young woman, _queen_ some call her, is wearing. She is not wearing battleready clothes_, oh no_. She wears a long black dress, much like the style Cersei used to wear, something akin to a fur shawl draped over her neck and shoulders.

Her black dress is just as brutal as her crown, lined and filled with black/red gems and steel, an armor in itself. Her black dress billows around her, a black belt with precious red gems fastened around her middle, black chains falling down her dress with red gems in them. They clink when they collide against each other, whenever she moves.

She can hear Drogon growling, as she takes a breath, wrapping her fur shawl closer around her. He is always close, these days. Too scared something will happen to her, like what happened to his mother. He was a _fraction_ too late, trusted someone he shouldn't have, and she knows he feels guilty about it. Still does.

Melantha starts marching towards Sansa, who has dismounted her horse and is waiting, a sneer on the queen in the North's face. Greyworm follows her, Drogon's wings vibrating with every step, teeth bared as his head appears next to his consort's head.

The silence is only disturbed by the howling wind, Sansa looking with icecold anger at this stranger, who dares call herself a dragon's consort and _queen_. 'We ask you stop this right now. Declare yourself as the loser of this battle and you will walk free.'

Melantha lets out a bitter laugh, eyes veiled. 'But Drogon will not, will he? Since your brother, as the last Targaryen, still thinks he has _any _claim to him.'

Sansa shares a look with Jon, who looks at Drogon, who has taken to hissing in warning.

Melantha looks down, something akin to sadness appearing on her face. 'I only ever asked to leave me,_ us_, alone. I never wanted to be called _usurper,_ even less a dragon's consort and queen.'

Sansa lets out a snort at that, and whatever chance they would've had at a peaceful solution, is gone. Jon sees it the moment Melantha's face closes off, a bitter look on her face.

She turns and looks at Drogon, who makes a soft noise in his throat and butts his cheek against hers, as Melantha closes her eyes. Her gloved hand holds his snout, tremors going through her fingers. She takes a moment and allows Drogon's fire and love to give her strength, knowing he will do all he can to protect her.

'I never wanted any of this.' she says, as Drogon curls around her and lies down, Melantha grabbing the scales on his neck. 'You started this war.' she points at Sansa, jewels clinking with the shaking of Melantha's head.

'You wanted more than you could have.'

She closes her eyes as she remembers her conversation with Bran, the three eyed raven looking with something like sadness to her.

'_You have to fullfill your destiny.' Bran says, as Melantha shakes her head, looking at the burning King's Landing beneath them._

'_I never wanted any of this. I never wanted to be dragon's consort or __**queen**__. Especially not queen.' Bran hums. 'You have no choice. You were meant to be queen. You and Drogon will bring peace to this world.'_

_Melantha takes a shuddering breath, her eyes falling on Drogon, who is roaring in anger at the last remaining soldiers. 'Seven Gods have mercy on anyone who dares to touch you, because he will burn the world if he has to, to keep you safe.'_

'You started this war.'

Melantha repeats, as she turns, her long dark hair bouncing with every step. Her grey eyes are simmering with anger and so many other emotions, for a moment Jon even thinks there is _fire_ burning in her eyes.

She stops at Drogon's wing, her head just visible behind the dragon's neck and head. She turns her head a fraction, so her face is visible, the dragon before her starting to growl louder and louder in anger. Her lips curl back into a disgusted sneer, one hand on Drogon's neck, the other balled into a fist.

Drogon's growling has reached a crescendo, teeth bared as Melantha mounts him and sits on his back, Drogon lying down so she is visible for all to see. Her eyes seem to bore into Sansa's, the queen in the North looking down as she shudders, shocked by the mere _anger and hate_ that seems to come off of Melantha in waves.

Melantha sneers, face an angry mask as she throws one last look at the Northmen before her, soon disappearing into the clouds as Drogon jumps up with a roar.

It is the_ words_ she speaks however, a warning veiled as a threat, that shocks Sansa and Jon, both looking uneasily at each other. The rest of their retenue quiet down, a heavy silence fallen over the group as they see Melantha's armies ready for battle. Only now do they realise _what_ kind of Pandora's box they have opened.

'You will_ forgive me_ for finishing it.'


	2. Chapter 2

**You cannot be lonely if you like the person you're alone with.**

**I recommend you listen to: Camila Cabello - Shameless**

**AN: I have made up the courting rituals of dragons. It is just for the sake of the story. Enjoy! - QueenNothingness**

Melantha opens her eyes when she hears the wind pick up, the light of the sun blinding her for a moment. She turns her head and looks at the two graves where vegetation has grown over one, and has begun to settle on the other.

She looks up and sees the sun is starting to set, time to go home. Better not to fall upon Stone Men. She never has, but her parents always made sure that she be vigilant, so she knows the basics on how to defend herself.

She picks up her dagger and her bag, some edible plants and other things to eat collected in it. 'I will see you later, mother, father.' She puts her finger for a minute on their graves, looks one last time at the flowers she has left there, and than starts to make the way back home.

How does a girl, who is _not_ affected by greyscale, come to live in Old Valyria, you may ask? It is very simple. Melantha takes little sips from her broth, as she remembers what it was like to live in Meereen, and admits she is happy to live here, away from that troublesome life.

Her mother and father were slaves working for a master in Meereen. When Melantha was about 12 years old, and to be sold to another House, her parents put all their lifesavings in freeing her and later on, also them.

Disgusted by everything that happened, they sailed through the waters close to Old Valyria, meaning to go live somewhere else. But they kind of got stranded here. Her uncle, who found them after some months, helped them move into one of the old buildings, where they repared the roof and the windows as well as they could.

At first, life was not easy, she muses. But her father had the habit to go work for a few months, so they could buy livestock and utilities they needed. And gradually, they settled in Old Valyria.

She wonders what has happened to her uncle. She has not seen or heard from him in months, after he came to visit her and brought her new things, such as new clothes. She hears the goats, the cow and chickens outside, but it are noises that are welcome. Otherwise, her days would be long and dull. And most certainly, _lonely._

Almost two years now, since her father died. From a broken heart, she is sure. Her mother died when she was seventeen. Her father followed when she was almost 22 years old. Somewhere she wonders if her father stayed alive just to make sure she could fend for herself. And when she could, he just had no will to go on anymore. But she understands. She really does.

Luckily her uncle comes to visit her as often as he can and he often also stays a few weeks, otherwise she would have gone crazy from having no contact with anyone at all.

When she goes to bed that night, she does wonder what the wind is that she seems to hear ever so often.

The next morning, she does not know what to say. Her eyes blink, sure as she is that she is still half asleep, but judging from the reaction of the animals in their stable, there is really a _burned_ animal lying before her door.

_A burned to black, roasted animal._ And not a small one either. She supposes it is some kind of deer?

She does wonder who has left this for her.

It is hours before she has skinned and cleaned out the animal, but most of the meat is useable. She changes her dress and takes her basket with clothes, intend on going to the river further from her home and get her clothes clean.

She has let the goats out, and they are bleating and follow her steadily towards the river. They graze in the near vicinity, and it makes her feel better, as if she is less alone. She smiles as they eat and make an occassional noise, her concentration fully on her clothes.

'Time to go. Come on.' She calls, as she starts to walk with her basket and now _wet but clean _clothes back home, the goats following her at her question. She feels a breeze caressing her long dark hair, her grey eyes focused on the clothes she is hanging up, so they may dry in the soft wind that is blowing.

She goes inside and takes one of her old books her father had bought for her, the story of Old Valyria, and sits outside on the wooden but creaking bench her father had built outside their house.

Her mother loved to sit and read to her, after all, when the weather was beautiful but not too hot or too cold. She reads for what seems like hours, the grumbling of her stomach warning her of the late hour.

She grabs her clothes, now dry, and puts them in the basket, making sure the animals are secure in their stable. She closes the windows, or should she say the wooden shutters her father and uncle had made before the windows, since any glass that had been present is long gone.

But they are as effective as keeping the cold and rain out as any glass window would have done. Melantha is deep in thought that night, sitting before the warm and crackling hearth.

She loves her peaceful and quiet life here, and she would not change it for the world, but sometimes...

Sometimes she wishes she had someone to spend her life with, just so she will not be alone her whole life.

There is another animal before her door the next morning. Less black but still thoroughly burned, but it is smaller. As if it heeded her remarks she is but one person and cannot eat that much.

Melantha has to admit her curiosity is starting to get the better of her. She supposes it is some animal that wants to be friends, but she wonders _what or who_?

'Melantha!' she hears a voice call, a smile appearing on her lips as she sees her uncle walking over to her. He is laden with bags but she still runs to him, hugging him hard. Her uncle smiles, hair and face grey and wrinkled with age, and she once more realises how much he looks like her father.

'How are you doing?' Her uncle asks her later, as she grins at another dress he has brought her. She has a total of three dresses, two pants, two shirts and two pairs of new shoes. And than she is not talking about the new brushes for her hair, pots and pans and some books to read he has also gifted her.

Her uncle always spoils her. 'I am doing fine.' Melantha smiles, as she puts her presents on her chair in her room, determined to arrange everything tomorrow. She has cleaned out and made up the bed in her uncle's old room, the one he slept in and still does whenever he comes to visit her.

'So tell me, what of the world? Is there any news?' Her uncle nods, gazing into the fire. 'There has a lot been going on. You remember the Targaryen queen, that left Meereen to conquer the Iron Throne?'

Melantha thinks hard and than nods. 'Yes, what of it?' Her uncle sighs, shaking his head. 'Apparently, she went mad and burned the whole of King's Landing. Jon Snow, the former commander of the Night Watch, killed her.' Melantha's eyes widen in shock.

'Really?' Her uncle nods, scratching his head. 'I understand why, though. He was scared she was going to kill more innocent people. She burned the whole of King's Landing, with the people still in it, to the ground.'

Melantha sighs, shock still thrumming through her system. 'I am actually sorry to hear that. I hoped she would be the queen that would bring peace to the Seven Kingdoms.'

Her uncle shrugs in sadness. 'Do be careful, Melantha. They say her only remaining dragon took her body and disappeared towards these regions.' Melantha's face goes a little bit pale from fear, but she nods all the same.

'Thank you for the warning, uncle. I will be careful.' Melantha takes a sip from her drink, breathing in the fresh evening air that blows through the open window. 'How long are you staying?'

Her uncle smiles at her at that question. 'Three weeks.' Melantha grins back, joy lighting her face. 'Great, I will be happy to have someone to talk to.' Her uncle laughs at that, a yawn interrupting his mood.

'I am retiring to bed.' Melantha nods, smiling softly when her uncle kisses her on her forehead. 'Good night, Melantha.'

Time passes so much quicker with some company. Uncle Asa keeps her entertained with all his stories, and helps her fix things she cannot do herself.

It is on one such afternoon, that she catches a first glimpse of _him_. They are working in her vegetable garden, deweeding it and taking the vegetables for tonight's dinner. 'I wonder what made the queen go mad.' Melantha admits, as she stands up and takes a breath, sweat falling down her face.

Uncle Asa gives her some water, both sitting down in the shade of the tree to take a little break. 'Her best friend was killed. The queen was already losing her grip on reality, because the people in Westeros did not accept her as she had hoped they would. They say...'

Her uncle hesitates, but Melantha nods. 'The truth, uncle. I am not little anymore.' He grins and snorts. 'I forget that sometimes. The queen had already burned part of the city.' Her uncle continues, looking out over the vast landscape that surrounds them. 'When the bells started to ring, something inside her snapped. King's Landing was actually signaling they were surrendering, but apparently the queen...'

Melantha finishes his sentence. 'She went completely mad.' Melantha sighs, some sadness thrumming in her chest. 'I had hoped she would have been a good queen.' Her uncle hums, as he stands up and offers her hand. 'Let's finish this and than you can go ahead and take a swim in the river before you wash yourself. I'll make dinner.'

'Be careful, niece.' Her uncle calls out a few hours later, the sky going red as the sun goes under. 'I'm just taking a small dive, I'll be back before dark.' Melantha calls back, as she runs down the hill to the river, jumping in with a squeal.

She swims for a while, feeling much better now that she is refreshed. She swims to a rock and sits there down for a while, lost in thought, warmed by the last rays of the sun.

She almost falls over when she hears the _sound_. A sound she has never heard before. Melantha freezes in fear, turning around, her hair covering some of her nudity. Her eyes widen in shock, her heart beating fearfully as she sees _what_ is behind her.

A gigantic _head_ is behind her on the riverbank. Melantha slides off the rock, going further into the water. Their tense exchange is interrupted as a whine seems to come from the beast.

Melantha stays put however, not moving an inch. A whine sounds again, the head bowing and seeming to lie down on the riverbank.

A dragon. There is a fucking _dragon _before her!

'Go...Go away!' she eeps, the dragon still occasionally whining. 'Go...' she whispers, gesturing with her hand.

'Melantha, are you coming home? It is getting dark!' she hears her uncle call, and that spurrs her into action. She looks one last time at the large beast, swimming to the other side and sliding into her clothes.

She never looks back as she runs back home, but not before hearing the rustling of the wind as the dragon flies up and disappears.

She does not see him anymore after that.

'You are sure you will be allright?' Uncle Asa asks one more time, as Melantha nods. Her uncle gives her one last hug, and leaves with a shout of 'I'll be back before winter.' Melantha keeps on looking long after he is gone, sighing as the only sound she hears are the rustling of the trees in the wind and the animals in their stable.

You get so quickly used to company, but being alone takes some time getting used to again.

That evening, she is reading one of the books her uncle brought her, and than she _understands_. A lot of new books have been written regarding dragons, since the dragon queen had brought three to life.

'_Dragons will often show their interest in a counterpart to become their mate by giving them gifts. These, more often than not, include dead, burned animals that are given to their potential mate as a sign they can provide for them.'_

Melantha's heart seems to stop. The dragon is _courting_ her?! 'Seven Gods.' she whispers in astonishment, mind blank as the book falls on the ground.

She barely sleeps that night, her mind mulling over what this means. She is intrigued about the prospect. And if she admits it, he is the most beautiful creature she has ever seen in her life.

Would she accept, he would offer her protection more than anything else and would provide for her but she wonders, ... Can someone love such a magnificent beast? Her doubts are rising but her mind offers her another perspective.

Dragons are intelligent, some even say more intelligent than humans. Is it such a stretch to suppose they can_ love?_ That they feel anger, sadness, disappointment, but also joy, happiness and love?

She supposes she'll have to find out.

When the sun comes through her window that morning and she opens her door, another burned animal is laying before her door. She laughs, shouting out a 'Thank you!' in the process.

It is a bit of a stretch, but she thinks she knows where to find him. She supposes she can accept his courting, and see what happens. No one ever got hurt trying.

She goes back to the river, swimming and relaxing, eventually sitting back on the rock. She dozes in the warmth of the sun, naked as the day she was born.

She is woken up by rustling behind her. Her heart starts beating in earnest as she turns around, but she steels her determination.

And there he is. Intelligent red eyes look at her, swirling with so many other things. Melantha takes a breath and slides off the rock, going towards the bank, closer, but not too close.

The water is up to her middle, her hair covering a part of her back and her breasts. 'If you understand me, come closer, so your head is right before me.' Melantha says, her voice coming out strong but friendly.

The dragon raises himself, making a soft noise in his throat, but he does move. His wings vibrate and the plants around them crack as he moves forward, a part of his wings and talons going into the water.

His head appears right before her, eyes blinking at her. He is leaving her the choice, she understands. To do what she wants.

Melantha smiles, but it is more a nervous grimace, as her hands raise and envelop his cheeks. The dragon keens, eyes closing in earnest. Melantha comes closer, the water sloshing around her, her face so close she can feel his breath.

She decides to take a leap in the unknown than and there. She comes closer, so her nose touches his, her eyes also falling shut. He seems to purr at that, his breathing and that of the human in front of him, evening out.

'I will accept it. Your courting.' Melantha whispers. The dragon's eyes open, and she is sure he can look into her very soul.

'Drogon.'


	3. Chapter 3

**You are not just a star to me, you're the whole damn sky.**

She mulls over her decision, the days after she has decided to allow Drogon's courting. She is not sure if she has made the right choice.

But Melantha is the kind of person that sticks by her decision once it is made, no matter what happens.

The days grow into weeks and her life stays pretty much unchanged, apart from Drogon who visits her, gives her the occasional burned animal, and keeps on 'courting' her.

She has taken to talk to him for hours on end, as she potters around her house, his head and big red eyes lazily blinking at her through the windows. He makes the occasional sound that makes it clear he is still there, and that he listens and _understands_, though he cannot answer.

But the more time she spends with him, the more the mystery that he is unveils itself to her. Be it the way he moves, the way he sounds or the way his eyes gaze at her, but she understands. More than she has ever been able to understand other people, not even her uncle Asa has ever been so clear to her.

And with that, their relationship_ grows_. A warmth starts to grow in her chest everytime she sees him, and it keeps on growing until it seems to thrum through her entire body whenever he is near.

She does not dare to name it, but she knows what it is, this feeling. _Love_ has blossomed one way or another. And though it is a different, dare she call it _special_, kind of love, not one she is sure has ever existed before, she knows it is love.

She knows Drogon loves her as well, in his own way, and though he cannot answer her questions or hold conversations with her, they connect and cherish each other in other, but not less meaningful ways.

And that is enough, she realises that night when she lies in her bed, the roar that is heard outside a comforting presence that follows her into sweet and peaceful dreams.

She is sure her parents, wherever they are, are happy for her. But uncle Asa.._..how _is she going to explain this to him?

He will not be here yet for however long, so she decides to break her head over that question on another day.

Though the warmer days have ended, and colder times are around the corner, it is still an agreeable temperature outside. The smile grows on Melantha's lips when she opens the wooden shutters and feels the sun warming her face.

A sound makes her look up as shadow blocks the sun and a chuckle escapes her lips. 'Give me some time to get dressed and than I'll join you outside, Drogon.' Melantha grins at her dragon- err... _mate?_, _husband ?_, as she turns and braids her long dark hair.

A light dress and sandals later, Melantha bustles out of the door as Drogon jumps up into the air, the goats by now used to his presence. They follow their normal route to the river down the hill, Melantha grabbing a basket with some food and drinks as she follows them down the road.

The goats are bleating and grazing in the field a bit farther away, as Melantha puts the basket with food underneath the shade of a tree. Drogon lies on the other side of the bank, intelligent eyes looking at her every move.

'I do have to do_ some_ laundry today, Drogon.' His mate chuckles and shakes her head as she starts washing the clothes she has brought with her, making quick work of the pile and lying them to dry on nearby rocks.

She sighs and groans in bliss as she feels the sun warming her face, taking some food and a flagon of water out of her basket together with a book. Melantha smiles as she hops from rock to rock, dark hair bouncing with every jump, eventually settling down next to Drogon on the other side of the bank.

She sits against his side, his neck curling around her until his head lies in her lap. She has taken to read out loud, the occasional keen coming from Drogon as he seems to fall into something akin to a slumber.

'_Balerion was the biggest known dragon to date to have been known to be ridden by a human.' _Melantha looks up to the clouds, the wheels turning in her head. 'Your mother rode you, did she not, Drogon? I wonder...I wonder what it feels like to be free like that...' Drogon perks up at that, slumber gone from his alert eyes in minutes.

He blinks at her, screeching as if wanting to make something clear, the book falling out Melantha's hands in surprise as she tries to calm her stuttering heart. She feels his fins slap against the back of her head as he shakes his head and butts it against her stomach.

'_No.' _Melantha hisses when she _realises_ what he means. 'I am _not_ riding you. I have fear of heights. _Drogon!' _She hisses again as her mate sits up and starts to rise from the ground. 'You _cannot _make me. Drogon!' Melantha hisses again, scrambling back as she stands up. 'Let that be very clear.' She says annoyed, but as the dragon before her sighs and closes his eyes, she knows he has understood.

'I am going back home. It is getting late. I will see you there.' Melantha nods, turning around and starting to walk to the rocks to go to the other bank of the river.

That is when she feels a gust of wind, knowing Drogon has taken off. What he does next however is not something she would have anticipated.

Her mate has pushed her into the water with his tail, all the while having dived into the river, so she falls onto his back that is submerged under the water. The dragon has taken to swim/crawl in the river, while his pissed of mate tries to find her bearings. A wet and sputtering Melantha coughs as she feels something _slippery_ beneath her, soon seeing there are _wet scales_ underneath her.

She has just time to brush her hair out of her face, and look to the side, before she sees that the dragon underneath her is _moving_. Melantha falls forward with a curse as Drogon stops swimming and breaks through the greenery farther down the river and onto the riverbank, shaking his long body and opening his wings, jumping into the air, drops of riverwater flying everywhere.

Melantha's stomach sinks in fear and her breath stutters to a halt, as she has just enough time to grab Drogon's spikes, drops of riverwater falling everywhere and still spraying her, causing her to close her eyes with a groan.

She feels that she is going up and up, and for a moment she is_ too_ scared to open her eyes, not sure what she will see if she does.

It is but moments later that she realises with fear she is up into the air, nothing but clouds surrounding them.

'Drogon!' she hisses, hitting his shoulderblade. 'You _little..._' Her mate roars, sure as she is it can be heard miles away, but she starts to snicker and than full on laugh when she hears the _happiness _and _joy_ in it.

He is finally happy again after losing his brothers and mother. And can she blame him for that? It is yet one other thing he wants to share with her, so Melantha says nothing and tries to adjust to the rapidly moving scenery underneath her.

And she has to be honest, it is very _thrilling_ to be in the air.

He brings her back that day when the sun goes down, and the goats have returned themselves to the stable.

Her world seems much more broader afterwards. They go flying for hours on end, a few times a week, and she feels how happy he is he can share this with her.

That is also when the dreams start. Dreams of Drogon's life before, as if their connection allows him to share even this. Dreams of when he was little, of his brothers and mother. It makes Melantha feel bittersweet, happy and sad all at once, glad that he wants to share this with her but so sad for him that he has lost so very much in such a short period of time.

Melantha realises they are much more bound and connected than she ever thought possible, and they always will be, and she supposes that should frighten her. But it _doesn't_.

It is weeks later that Drogon takes her to his den, as she calls it. It is night, the stars are shining so very brightly, the world silent around them.

She does love flying the most at night, when the stars shine bright and there are no clouds. Only Drogon and her, surrounded by millions of stars.

Those are some of the happiest moments of her life, and she hopes it will always be this way, until she dies and her body has gone back to the earth.

Alas it is not meant to be. The future brings something else entirely.

She stumbles upon it one night, when Drogon has fallen asleep, but Melantha does not seem to be able to find a comfortable place against her mate's side.

It is something that _shimmers _in the dark, softly illuminated by the fire that has burned down to cinders.

It is a _necklace._ A golden one, with one giant golden dragon's claw hanging down the gold chain.

Melantha hears rustling behind her, and than red eyes look at her, and than she _understands_.

The necklace was his mother's. 'I am sorry, Drogon. I will put it back.' He stops her, butting his snout against her cheek. 'You want me to keep it?'

From that moment on, Melantha always wears the necklace, her dreams allowing her to see how much it meant to Drogon's mother, and now, to Drogon.

It is one of the few tangible memories he has left, reminding him of a happier past, when his mother and brothers still lived.

It begins to become colder, so Melantha has taken to wear a light coat above her dress. She still wonders how she is going to tell uncle Asa all this when he returns.

Turns out, she does not have to wait long.

Drogon screeches underneath her, the wind not blowing too hard today, when a snarl comes from Drogon's mouth and makes Melantha look down.

There is a man shouting beneath them, one that is in a boat. _Uncle Asa?_

Drogon roars in anger, showing his teeth as she feels his belly heat up, as he seems to prepare to _breathe fire._

He sees her uncle as a threat to her, his mate, and will probably burn her uncle if she does not intervene.

'Drogon! No! He is _family!_' Melantha begs as the dragon underneath her snarls but stops the building fire in his throat, turning and than diving down to where her uncle has stepped off his boat and is still shouting at them on the shore.

Drogon eventually lands, head bowing down so Melantha becomes visible, as her uncle stumbles back and falls onto his ass.

'Melantha?' Her uncle asks in disbelief, as Melantha steps down Drogon and around him, approaching her uncle. 'What in the Seven Gods...' Drogon shows his teeth, hissing in warning at her uncle.

'Drogon.' Melantha whispers as she turns, pleading with her eyes for him to stop. 'Please.' Drogon keens, blinking with his eyes one more time, approaching her as Melantha gives him a smile and scratches his snout, flying up into the sky in mere minutes.

A silence falls over them as uncle Asa blinks in stupidty.

'What in the_ Seven Hells _is going on?' Uncle Asa screams as Melantha helps him up, but she sees it is not anger, he is scared something happened to her.

She tries to explain. He screams and shouts at her, but she knows he was scared and worried, so she lets it go.

It is half an hour later when he has calmed down somewhat, trying to understand and give Drogon the benefit of the doubt.

'So he is your mate?' Melantha nods as uncle Asa humms, shaking his head. 'How did this happen?'

Melantha sighs and takes his hand, helping him with his bags.

It is later that evening, when they have settled into her house, and Drogon's watchful eyes come through the windows that her uncle utters his concerns.

She did not tell him yet she mostly sleeps enveloped in a breathing heap of Drogon in his den these days, and that she has not seen her own bed in weeks.

'I can accept that you are his mate, Melantha. I might need time, but I will. But you do not understand the danger you are in.'

That makes Melantha look up, Drogon also listening intently. 'People know he is the only living dragon as far as we know, a very powerful one at that, and they are looking for him. Because having him as an advantage to battle means _power._'

Melantha's heart starts to beat with nervosity, her hands wringing together in fear. 'The king is looking for him, and though I am sure King Bran does not mean any harm, I am not sure I can say the same of the Queen in the North, Sansa Stark. She has proclaimed her brother, Jon Snow, to be the rightful _**'heir'**_ to Drogon.'

Drogon snarls at those names, Melantha looking up in shock, worry filling her gaze. 'Excuse me?' she sneers at once, anger and disgust at this woman she has never met filling her. 'As if Drogon is some kind of object or pet someone can_ own_?!'

Her uncle holds his hands up. 'You know I am on your side, Melantha. I always will be.' Her uncle scratches his chin, and for the first time she sees the lines etched in his face, and it shocks her that he looks so much more older than he really is in mere moments. He is really worried and dare she say _fearful_, and that scares her to death.

Uncle Asa clears his throat as he continues, worrylines appearing in his forehead. 'If they find you, they might be willing to _kill_ you, because Drogon is now loyal to you and only you.'

Melantha looks to her uncle and than to Drogon, her uncle taking her hands in his. Her heart is still thrumming in her chest, and she hugs her uncle, wishing she was a little girl again who is safe in his arms.

The future seems to be fearful and scary now. And it makes Melantha sick to her stomach.

'Pray to the Seven Gods they do not find you. And pray to them that your mate will be able to protect you, because queen Sansa has had _a taste_ of power, and something tells me, she will stop at nothing.'

Drogon roars in anger, flying up and scaring the animals outside. He flies around her house over and over, roaring and screeching in anger. He is livid, she can tell, furious at even the notion they dare to come and look for him. It seems as if her house is trembling in fear with all the noise he makes, as Melantha closes her eyes and a lone tear trails down her cheek.

'Nothing will stop her. Not even killing Drogon's mate if that means she can use him to help her brother rule the Six Kingdoms and the North.' Her uncle sighs as he looks her in her eyes, a sad smile appearing on his lips.

'And who knows, if she has Drogon, who knows where she will_ stop_. Maybe the next step is the kingdoms across the Narrow Sea, and who knows what than afterwards...'

Melantha swallows harshly, her grey eyes gazing into the burning fire, trying to calm her beating heart. But something tells her, sooner or later, her peaceful life will stop.

It is just a matter of time.

'She has had a taste of power, and we all know, we always want more power. That is just a flaw in human nature. And the Queen in the North you ask? Queen Sansa, well, she is _thirsting _for it.'


	4. Chapter 4

**Oh, Darling. You can't fix yourself by breaking someone else. **

Though Melantha knows at some point her life might be thrown into disarray because people are looking for her mate, she does have some peaceful years.

Tough Uncle Asa's warning is never very far from the forefront of her mind, she is always vigilant, but she does relax in the months afterwards. Drogon had also been on high alert, not allowing his mate out of his sight the first few weeks, even taking her and to her uncle's misery, her uncle on his hunting trips.

When Melantha explained why, her uncle understands and though begrudgingly, allows it.

Jon Snow _killed_ Daenerys. He killed her mate's mother. Drogon has never forgiven the King beyond the Wall, even though he also knew his mother had changed.

Gone mad maybe, even though Drogon did her bidding anyway, ignoring the signs. But he does admit his mother changed and that eventually led to her untimely death.

As Uncle Asa leaves again and they are undisturbed, Melantha and Drogon get into their quiet and peaceful routine once more.

It is a few months later she stumbles upon an egg. A _dragonegg._ Drogon's eyes zero in on his mate, who lets out a shriek and falls backwards.

He is quick to approach, teeth bared, almost snorting when he sees _what_ is laying there. 'Do not look at me like that.' Melantha mutters, allowing a breathy laugh to escape her. 'I was shocked.'

The huge dragon seems to snort, shaking his long neck as he turns around. 'Drogon.' Melantha asks, the egg now in her hands, a pensive look on her face.

'Do you think we can revive it?' Her mate stares at her for a moment, and she can see the emotions swirling in his eyes. 'It's fine. We can leave it like this. I just...was wondering.'

Melantha lays the egg back where she found it, scratching Drogon on his snout and mounting his back. She is silent as they fly home, so very saddened her mate still grieves his family.

But she can understand. She needed some time to mourn her parents as well, after all.

'Drogon?' Melantha asks some time later, walking into his den. It is quiet, and there seems to be a tense silence blanketing his home. It makes the hairs on her arms stand up.

She can hear him moving around at the back of the cave, his scales illuminated by a small fire that is burning in front of him. 'What is going on?' Melantha asks, her heart starting to pound at the dragon's strange behaviour. 'Drogon, you are scaring me.' she whispers into the darkness.

A scared gasp leaves her when she hears him moving behind her, his head appearing above hers. His warm breath makes her hair move, her eyes looking up into the burning eyes of her mate. He pushes her towards the back of the cave, making Melantha stumble over her own feet.

'Hey!' She snaps, but goes silent when she sees what is in front of her. The egg is laying in a small fire, and Melantha begins to understand when Drogon curls around her. She ducks just in time as he breathes fire, the flames surrounding them and the heat almost unbearable.

It is but a few moments later, when the cave has gone dark again, that she dares to peek. A small sound makes her eyes widen. 'Unbelieveable.' Melantha mutters, as an extremely _small _dragon crawles over to her.

It is a vivid red dragon, so very red it almost burns her eyes. The little creature approaches her and Drogon as her mate curls back, allowing the baby dragon to be picked up by Melantha.

The next days are taxing, to say the least. Her newborn _son_ is a curious one, and it is more than once that Drogon snarls in warning when he misbehaves once again.

Telling her uncle he has a dragon as a cousin is very taxing also. But he does accept it. After a while.

The next few years pass by relatively quietly, and the warning her uncle had given her gets forgotten. Her son is a mischieveous one, and she does not even want to talk about the time he almost burned her favourite dress or the first time he went flying.

Her son, they have called him Maeghar, is growing bigger and bigger every passing day. He is about five years, almost six years now, and though he is quite a bit smaller than his father, he would be able to carry a rider, if he wanted.

'Melantha!' The 29-year old woman has matured and grown beautiful, her uncle realises when her eyes crinkle with warmth and a welcoming smile lights up her expression, a certain fieryness to her now she did not have when she was alone. Uncle Asa supposes that is what happens when you have a dragon for a mate.

'Maeghar. Drogon.' Uncle Asa chuckles in greeting as the vivid red dragon comes bounding over, screeching in greeting. Drogon bows his head, keening at his son as both dragons fly up and disappear.

'I am happy to see you.' Melantha admits later on, when she has prepared something to eat for her uncle and he is gobbling it up like a starving man.

'Are you allright, uncle? You seem very quiet.' Her uncle sits back, sighing as he tries to find the right words.

'I found something out.' Uncle Asa admits, searching for the correct terms to tell his niece. 'Maeghar, _not now_.' Melantha hisses, her son coming through the open window with his head. He screeches at her uncle, butting his head against the man's face. The woman sighs, a fond expression appearing.

'It's fine, Melantha. Maeghar is allowed to know.' A silence falls over them, her uncle searching for a way to tell his niece, but the words get stuck in his throat.

'I have a daughter!' Uncle Asa eventually blurts out, Melantha raising a delicate eyebrow. Her long dark mane is into a long braid, her hair so long it reaches past her butt. 'How?' Melantha asks, her uncle shrugging.

'Apparently her mother, whom I had a short _partnership_ with, never told me she was pregnant. She is a slave in a town near Astapor.' Melantha's jaw goes tight, her frame rigid. 'Than we need to get her out as soon as possible.'

Uncle Asa nods. 'I wanted to ask if you can go and get her with Drogon.' Melantha does not know what to say. 'I know it is dangerous. But we would be so much faster. And I want her to be safe and free. Like you are.'

She gets where her uncle is coming from. She really does. So she nods, and they start planning.

It will need some preparation but they can go and get her soon enough.

'Her name is Mirantha. She is fifteen, Uncle Asa says. Looks a lot like me, darkish hair but blue eyes.' Melantha chuckles, sitting next to the grave of her parents.

'We are going to go and get her in two days. I'll bring her over so you can meet her.' A roar makes Melantha look up, Maeghar flying over her. But the sound he makes seems _wrong_.

Panicked. Angry. Worried.

Melantha's heart starts to pound as she starts to run back home, but she stops in her tracks when she sees smoke rise into the sky.

'What?' Melantha whispers, her son landing next to her. She cannot,_ does not,_ want to believe what she is seeing. He is snarling, teeth bared. 'Maeghar, where is Drogon?' Her panic turns into fear when she hears voices._ Multiple ones. _

'Maeghar, go and hide. _Now!'_ Melantha hisses, her son listening for once and flying up into the clouds, disappearing and safe for now.

The woman starts running down the hill, the goats bleating and running away from her home.

'I don't know what you are talking about! I am the only one living here!' Melantha freezes when she hears her Uncle Asa denying someone lives there but him.

Something is wrong._** Very wrong.**_

She goes into the trees and approaches her house, now a burning mess, only the blackened frame of the old building visible. 'You have one more chance, old man. _Where_ is she?' Uncle Asa, bloodied and dirty, sits up on his knees and glances at his niece, making clear she needs to stay hidden.

'I am the only one living here.' She can barely stop a scream from leaving her throat, as Uncle Asa is pierced with a sword, the other horrified men trying to stop the soldier from doing it. But a fraction too late.

'No! UNCLE ASA!' Melantha runs through the trees and vegetation, her gaze trained on her gasping uncle. She runs to him, falling next to him on her knees. 'Melantha.' He wheezes, the woman turning around.

'Why? He did _nothing_ wrong!' She shouts, tears starting to gather in her eyes. 'Are you Melantha?' The silence of the angry woman is enough, tears rolling down her cheeks through her now ashstained cheeks.

'Who is asking?' She snarls, the man before her giving her a nasty grin. 'Queen Sansa. You need to come with me, now.'

The soldier tries to grab her, but Melantha tears her arm out of his grip, her gaze turning stonecold, lips curling back in disgust and anger.

'I don't think_ he _will agree.' Melantha bites out, standing up, red eyes looking at the soldiers before her. They have sealed their fate the moment that sword pierced her uncle's stomach.

'Who?' The soldier snorts, raising an eyebrow in mock fear at her. He seems to think she is clearly nuts. Oh, how _wrong _he is.

She can hear the growling, and her lips turn into a vengeful smile, a bitter laugh leaving her.

'My mate.'

Drogon has appeared from behind the house, teeth bared and snarling at the soldiers before her. The soldiers cannot even react before Melantha steps back as fire gathers around her, burning every man in the vicinity.

Their arrogance turns into wails and screams of pain, but it does nothing to her frozen and broken heart. Drogon is roaring, so deafening she is sure it is heard from miles away. He jumps up, going after the escaping soldiers, who are running back to their ship.

'Melantha.' Uncle Asa, whispers as his niece sinks down next to him. 'Promise me you will find her and allow her to be free.' Melantha closes her eyes, nodding. A warm presence is behind her, Maeghar keening softly as he butts Uncle Asa's hand.

'I promise.' Melantha whispers as her uncle takes another raspy breath, his last. 'I promise.'

She breaks down than, sobs leaving her lips as Melantha bends down. Maeghar is next to his mother, still keening softly. 'Burn him.' Melantha says to her son, the red dragon opening his wings as he prepares to breathe fire.

'Give him a burial worthy of a king.' And so Maeghar does.

Drogon has returned in the meantime, letting out another angry roar. Melantha marches over to him, anger and viciousness burning in the pit of her stomach, fueling her want for revenge. 'Take me to them. _Now_.'

Drogon does, waisting no time jumping up into the air and flying towards the burning ship. She sees a lone soldier running, and she makes Drogon go after him.

The man stumbles as he falls on his back, crawling backwards as Drogon lands in a cloud of sand and ash before him, approaching with bared teeth.

'Wait!' The man begs but Melantha has no mercy. Not anymore. 'I was just following orders.' Melantha gives him a wry smile, the vengeance and anger burning in her eyes.

'Well, here is a new order. I think it is time Queen Sansa gets a new message.' Melantha feels her lips turn into a cold grin, feeling nothing when the man burns alive. This the very moment the rumors start, where they call her an angry and vicious woman, who has no mercy, for no one.

She supposes she does. Her heart has been broken into a million pieces, the only family she had left gone and with it, any positive feelings. Only anger, fury, viciousness and a thirst for vengeance remain.

Drogon picks up the carcass and takes it up, flying after the fleeing ship that remains. He drops the carcass on deck, the soldiers all freezing in place. 'I have a message for Queen Sansa.' Melantha snarls, the disgust and anger clear on her face.

'She wants a war.' Melantha motions to the burning carcass, Drogon roaring in anger as the men, cover their ears. _'I will give her one.'_

The dragon flies up with a roar, turning back to Melantha's burning home. She can only grab some valuables and a spare set of clothes that she puts in a bag around her middle.

The tears have stopped for now, but the young woman cannot stop herself from looking back at her burning home in the distance and the now three graves adorning the scenery.

'I will find her, I promise.' Melantha whispers, patting the gravestone that holds uncle Asa's name. She lets out a soft sob, bowing one last time to the three graves. 'You keep each other company and look out for each other, okay? I will see you soon.'

Drogon's head than appears next to her, her son spreading his wings a bit farther away. 'Let's go.' Melantha whispers, giving a sad smile to her mate, who is clearly sad for her.

She can feel it in the air, the sadness and grief coming off of the dragon and her son in waves. She crawls on her mate's back, turning around one last time and saying goodbye to the life she used to know as Drogon starts running, jumping into the air, her hands grabbing his spikes tightly.

They are silent for a while as Melantha's red eyes look beneath her, their son flying quietly next to them. _Where to?_ Drogon seems to ask.

'First, we are going to find Mirantha. And than, we need an army.' Melantha says, cold logic taking over. She pats her mate's neck, who rumbles softly. 'To protect you and Maeghar.'

She remembers something her mother used to say, when she told stories of old with battles and vicious women who turn into bitter monsters.

'_Oh, darling. You can't fix yourself by breaking someone else.' Her mother smiles as Melantha gives her a confused look. She did not understand than. These bitter and vicious women were always the villains to her. _

But now she gets it. She can understand why someone would turn into such a person out of grief and bitterness. 'But I can damn well try.' Melantha whispers, making a silent promise to her parents and uncle to avenge them.

'Queen Sansa wants a war.' Melantha almost spits out the words, her anger starting to simmer once more. The cold wind bites in her cheeks as they fly over the sea, but it does not cool Melantha down, on the contrary, it only makes her more furious.

'_She can get one.' _


	5. Chapter 5

**Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten.**

The air is thick with humidity, and once more Melantha wants to curse and rage at how her life has turned out. Drogon makes a soft noise in his throat, Maeghar's wet snout bumping against her hand, making her calm down.

'I know.' Melantha whispers, but sometimes it is very hard to not go deeper into the despair, anger and grief she feels. Hatred burns and simmers, trickling deeper into her heart with every moment she even _thinks_ about what Queen Sansa has done.

All that, just to have Drogon and some more power.

The 28-year old woman groans and stands up, fortifying once more the walls around her heart, trying to stay collected and calm. For she is almost at Astapor, and she knows her niece is held as a slave in a place nearby.

Though she is sure Daenerys had banned slavery. She supposes some villages have taken up the practice again.

'Let's go, Drogon. Maeghar, you and your father need to keep a low profile. At least, until I have found out where they keep Mirantha.' Her mate does not seem to like that solution, nor does her son, but they do her bidding anyway.

Melantha spends some time in Astapor, tracking down in which village her niece is exactly staying. And the longer she stays in this city, the more her disgust grows. Though slavery has largely been banned here, the Second Sons making sure of that, there are still rich people who do it.

Under a so called contract that is legal, but it is a loophole in the law where the Second Sons cannot do anything about it. And since the khaleesi is no longer here to enforce those rules, the rich and nobles have taken up the practice again, under a fake name and so called legal contracts, but it all comes down to slavery, in another form.

Once she is done with Sansa, she swears to come back here and make sure everything is in order once again. If only to honor the legacy Drogon's mother left.

But that will have to wait. There are more pressing matters to attend to.

'No!' Melantha groans, the noble not seeming impressed at her questioning. 'I am looking for Mirantha, _my niece_. She looks like me, but younger.'

The noble's wife takes pity on her and hums, eventually revealing her niece is working in servitude of a Lord that rules one of the villages nearby.

'Thank you for the information, My Lady.' Melantha gives the woman a tight smile, turning around to go on her way. 'If I can give you a warning.' Melantha says, stopping in her tracks.

'I advise you to stop the practice of 'legal' slavery. At some point, I will be back and I will make sure this stops. I can promise you that.' The noble snorts, but his wife has seen and heard the warning in Melantha's voice.

A small smile does creep on her face when she hears the woman berating her husband, standing up to him and telling him they should let their servants in such a contract go.

It is not much, but Melantha hopes she has made at least a change for a small number of people.

Drogon is upon her in mere moments, the minute she sets foot outside of Astapor. He blinks at her and nuzzles her face, her hand scratching his cheek. Maeghar also keens, bounding over to his mother and almost crushing her, Drogon's warning growl the only thing that is keeping her safe.

Drogon's mate lets out a laugh at that, patting her son on his head. 'You are becoming too big, Maeghar. You have to be careful not to crush me. You two are all I have left now.'

Though she still feels bitter and sad, the evening passes by quickly, as Melantha plans how to get her niece out of there.

The village is small, but well defended, and she can feel the stares of the citizens, clear as it is to them she is not from around here.

'And what can I help you with?' The Lord before her asks, the lecherous grin on his face making her hair stand up. It is difficult to keep the disgust out of her voice, but she manages.

'I am looking for a girl named Mirantha. She is apparently in your servitude. I want her free.' Melantha offers, her voice stonecold as she takes a sip from the glass of wine she has been given.

'Mirantha?' The noble before her seems to think for a moment, his eyes taking on an air of lust and interest such a grown man should not have in a fifteen year old. Her gut is telling Melantha her niece will not be safe from this man, not for much longer.

'And what are you willing to pay for her release?' Melantha throws a bag of gold before the man's feet, remembering how much time and effort it took her uncle to just get this amount of money.

'I was thinking along the lines of something else.' Melantha snorts at that, shaking her head and sneering in disgust.

'I know men like you. You think you can abuse and use every women in your near vicinity, as if they are nothing more than common whores for you to do with as you please.'

The noble becomes red as Melantha turns her head, sighing in disgust. 'I know your type all too well. You will let my niece go, and _now._ That is your final warning. This is more than enough payment for all the years she has worked for you.'

Melantha turns, her gaze falling on the village outside. 'And what if I refuse?!' The noble sneers back, throwing the bag of gold back at her. 'What will you _do_?!'

The darkhaired woman closes her eyes, her irritation and annoyance flaring. Her hands go into fists, a tired sigh leaving her. 'And here I hoped we could do this the civilized way.' Melantha mutters, her gaze zeroing in on the noble before her.

'If you do not let my niece go...' The man's eyes go wide when he hears a roar just outside of his home, falling back onto his ass as he crawls against the wall in fear. 'Ah, so you do remember that sound?' Melantha snickers vehemently, the raw anger clear on her face.

'What do you _want_?!' The noble squeals again, whimpering in the corner like the grown baby he is. 'You let my niece go, and I will ask my mate not to burn down this whole place. Fail to do so...' Melantha hums, stalking the noble like _prey._

'He will burn this whole place down, **with you in it**.' The lord nods, calling for one of his guards to go and get Mirantha. 'I will be taking this back. As a token of your good faith.' Melantha takes the bag of gold, resolving to use it for her niece, so she can get some new belongings.

The fifteen year old girl that is brought to her, makes Melantha go silent. Her niece looks much like her, but she has some of the strong traits uncle Asa bore, like his lively eyes and strong jaw.

The girl before her is not sure what to say, but recognition seems to fill her expression when she sees Melantha. Her niece is ushered to follow her, both woman and girl practivally thrown out of the Lord's home.

A silence falls over them as Melantha starts walking towards the exit, hoping the girl will follow her. 'Where is my father?' Mirantha asks, stopping in her tracks. She sees the woman go rigid, Melantha turning and giving her a sad look.

'He...was killed.' Mirantha does not say anything, a shocked sob leaving her lips. 'I promised him I would get you out when he died. So I did.'

'But how?' Mirantha asks, the questions and grief colliding in her confused gaze. 'Not here. I will tell you, but not here.'

Her niece is silent as she follows Melantha out of the village, both girls walking for a while until they come upon a small camp Melantha has set up. 'Here, you can go and refresh yourself. Tomorrow, I will take you to Astapor and we will get you some new clothes.'

Mirantha seems to want to say something, but decides against it. It is that evening that Melantha tells the whole story, leaving Drogon and Maeghar deliberately out of it.

'My father was killed because of this queen Sansa? For what reason?' Melantha keeps silent, understanding the anger and rage that is building in the fifteen year's old before her.

'It is a long story, one of which I cannot tell you everything just yet, but your father loved you very much. And queen Sansa, she will get her punishment. I can promise you that.'

It is clear to Mirantha her aunt does not wish to elaborate, so in the next following days that subject is not brought up again. Mirantha finally gets some new clothes and belongings, but she feels there is something her aunt is not telling.

Melantha is nice enough, and they get along well, the bonds of family slowly snapping into place.

But still, there is something Melantha fails to mention. Mirantha is sure of it, and she wants to find out what.

'How are you going to make queen Sansa pay?' Mirantha asks one day, when they are packing up camp to leave and get out of this wretched place. 'I have a plan.' Melantha smiles, braiding her niece's hair into a long braid.

'We need to get an army. That is where we are heading next.' Mirantha stops packing up her bag, confusion once more filling her being. 'How?!' Melantha lets out a laugh.

'I may have left out some essential information when I told my story. The reason queen Sansa came for me in the first place, is because I have something she desperately wants.'

'What than?' Mirantha asks, interest peaked. 'A dragon. Drogon is my mate.' Melantha raises an eyebrow when her niece keeps quiet for a second, clearly not sure if her aunt is telling the truth.

'Do not run. _Stay calm_.' That is the last warning Mirantha gets before the sound that comes from the sky makes her hair stand up.

The fifteen year old stumbles back into Melantha, hiding behind her aunt as Drogon lands, his gigantic head appearing before his mate.

'He will not hurt you. You are family to him.' Drogon's mate grins, taking her niece's hand and guiding it to Drogon's snout. The dragon seems to snort, but than lies down, not moving as Mirantha pets his head.

A gasp leaves the fifteen year old, the girl laughing when Drogon keens and butts her head. 'There is someone else you need to meet. This is Maeghar, my son.'

Mirantha once more hides behind Melantha, swallowing when Maeghar comes bounding over. Drogon is humongous, but Maeghar has also grown. He is about the same size his father was when he was six years old, and Drogon was already gigantic, from what Melantha remembers.

While Drogon slowly approaches Balerion's size, Maeghar can hardly be called small either. Mirantha is not so quick to approach Maeghar, but Melantha knows it is a question of time.

Mhaegar has recognized his rider, and Melantha has almost seen the bond snap into place. Sooner or later, Mirantha will ride Maeghar. It is just a question of time and of her niece's courage to face the unknown.

'Are you ready to go?' Melantha asks, as she takes her bag and starts crawling on Drogon.

Mirantha eeps, but eventually nods and takes her aunt's outstrechted hand, crawling on her uncle?, and getting seated behind Melantha.

'Hold on!' Melantha calls out, as Drogon turns and his mate bows forward. Mirantha's eyes go big as the ground underneath them starts moving, and Maeghar is running next to them, opening his wings and jumping up into the air.

Mirantha lets out a scream as Drogon jumps up, his wings making them disappear into the clouds in mere moments. But she gets used to it eventually.

It helps that Melantha is a lifeline she can hold onto. 'Drogon is the reason queen Sansa came for me. Her soldiers killed your father, my uncle, while he tried to protect me. That is why I want...'

'Revenge?' Mirantha whispers, feeling the tension and anger rolling off of her aunt in waves. Drogon growls at the mention of that name, shuddering and showing his teeth.

'I'll gladly help.' Melantha grins, teeth showing as they fly over the sea, the drops of water a welcome reprieve from Astapor's heat.

'That is what I thought. We are going to the Unsullied army in Naath, see if they will help us. And than, we go to war.'

Melantha chuckles as Mirantha sneers, a vengeful smirk on her face. 'Queen Sansa wants a war, she will get one.'

Mirantha smirks, looking behind her, Astapor growing smaller and smaller from Drogon's back.

'_Oh yes, she will.'_


End file.
